The Last Goodbye
by Perfect Image
Summary: -LaviAllen- It was the last goodbye. He looked beneath my cheerful exterior and tried to find the true me. In the end, I don't know if he failed miserably or succeeded brilliantly. All I know is that when the time came, I wept for a boy named Allen.


**Title:** The Last Goodbye

**Part: **1/?

**Rating:** PG-13

**Warnings:** Shonen-ai (later on), implied sexual content between two males (later on), vulgar language, disturbing views, character death (still undecided), possible OOCness

**Setting:** Set either before or after the current chapter. If one of the two main characters (or any of the others) are killed later on in the manga, then this is set before stated death. Basically, anywhere you believe it would best fit.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lavi, Allen, or any other objects/characters from the hit manga series _D.Gray-Man_. I do, however, own the plot. I also own the emotions these two feel, as we currently do not know the status of their relationship. If, though this is unlikely considering the genre of the manga in question, these emotions prove to be true then they too shall belong to the creator of _D.Gray-Man_. So give a girl a break and don't sue.

**Notes: **Part One out of so many chapters. This is mainly because it was becoming rather long, and I didn't feel like stretching it out for too long. Rest assured, the next part will be out soon.

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The Last Goodbye_**

**Part One**

**.X.x.Start.x.X.**

Allen and I said our last goodbye on a winter's eve. Then, snow was dancing around us and he was laughing, telling me as he hugged a paper bag full of groceries to his chest about how he was adopted on Christmas, a date only days away.

When I first met Allen, he was careful with his words; he always had a ready smile for anyone, and I passed him off as a naïve kid. Still, it was my duty to watch the "Destroyer of Time", so I drew up an illusion of interest, annoying and teasing him. I don't know whether he truly accepted me as a comrade after we entered battle, or after I told him about my struggle to be accepted as Bookman apprentice.

I think it was the former, for the latter was discussed when he was under the weather, having braved an attack by a horde of level _two_s. Then he seemed particularly down and when I asked why, he simply smiled and told me about how his adoptive father, Mana, had once dressed up in a horrific mask one day, intent of giving Allen a little holiday scare. While it had not been meant as a cruel joke, Allen explained that his younger self had seen it as such and had pouted and sulked for three days until Mana finally threw together a special act just for Allen.

And, of course, Allen had seen the one Akuma out of millions that just happened to have a face similar to the mask Mana had worn. It was then, feeling a stab of pity, I had explained of my own experiences, all in good cheer. Even when I had been forced to pretend blindness, retardation, any form of crippling disease, I had done so with a smile on my face. Of course, some times, especially with those barbarians I had the pleasure of meeting off the coast of Africa; I had been forced to abandon my joyful self in favor of a more solemn persona.

And I accepted it, for in truth, I had no clue whether I was mature or not, serious or selfish, childish or cowardly. When I paused to laugh in mocking embarrassment after explaining such a thing, Allen had grabbed hold of my sleeve, staring at the black fabric before finally letting go and murmuring a few words that I couldn't quite catch. When I asked him to repeat his words, the younger boy had smiled cockily and said cheerfully, "I always pegged you as a kid. Hard to believe you actually have a mature side hidden behind that idiotic façade. "

While the exterior part of me had ranted and raved, the interior had been shocked, astounded that the kid would be able to see past my disguise. What really got me was the fact he could see past my "idiotic façade". If he could look past that mask, would he eventually find out who I really was? That thought scared me, and when I left my knuckles were white, my hands trembling ever-so-slightly. I couldn't let Bookman find out about this serious breach in my barriers. I kept quiet and continued diligently on my tasks, the old man nodding in approval as I came back to our room and began to record the latest events that had unfolded, carefully excluding Allen and mine's conversation.

And something changed that day. Allen had seen me as something more than the person I had so carefully constructed. I don't know when I began to look forward to our contacts. All I do know is that one day, I found myself hovering over that damned boy as he twisted and turned in his bed, situated next to mine in the hotel room we were currently housed in, awaiting for dawn to break so that we could head to a location nearby that was said to contain some newly discovered Innocence.

A fever had been plaguing him for days, and while the silver-haired boy had protested and claimed that it was merely a cold, in the end the virus attacked his body, sending the boy into fits of perspiration and constant shakes that left him panting as he fought against inner demons that tormented him in his dreams. I, rather than attending to this in a logical way as befitting one of my status, practically –well—flipped out, frantically throwing blankets upon him, dabbing at his forehead with a washcloth, and begging Lenalee with the use of my golem to return to us with Bookman in tow.

She was concerned as well. But, I believe she found amusement in my breathless voice, in my haggard dressage. And even after she explained to me for the fifth time that Allen was simply suffering from another one of his cases of overworking, I continued to plead for her to find a way to meet up with us and, if not bring Bookman himself, then at least provide me with one of his extensive volumes that dealt with healing. But, in the end, her brother finally informed me –in a rather cheerful, mocking tone—that their golem was needed to find another Exorcist –why did he feel the need to journey outside the Black Order with her?— and that my calling time had come to an end. I didn't even know we had a specific number of minutes to use per day on our golems.

And after three days of near-hysteria from me and many nightmares from Allen, the fever finally broke and the fifteen-year-old was able to slip into quiet slumber. This also led me to placing my head on his bed, leaning forward in my stiff chair as my eyes slipped closed and the world outside the darkness slowly faded away. Which is what, in turn, led to me waking up to the younger boy's prodding.

Bookman made me pay hell for the little stunt I pulled. Our top priority had been to complete the mission, and as Allen's life was not in danger and I could easily have asked our elderly neighbors to watch over him, I was nearly bludgeoned to death by the old coot. But I felt this warm glow spread through me when Allen approached me the next day with a box of cookies and a sheepish grin.

We talked, walked, ate all of the cookies even though the whole batch had totaled to around fifty, and enjoyed our day off at the Order. When we were about to separate, each of us having been called off to separate missions, he pulled me into a hug and thanked me for truly caring.

I think we became actual friends then. All of my friends were never actually so; they've only ever been my comrades. So, for this boy to find a way to worm himself into my heart, I was less than amused but more than a little pleased. Our friendship started slowly at first, him watching me quietly as I worked and I listening to his stories, never judgmental, only ever nodding.

I came to see him as not the "Destroyer of Time", but rather the boy who was robbed of his childhood happiness all too soon. My meetings with him became so frequent that soon, Bookman pulled me aside and warned me not to grow a heart, not after so long of being emotionless. "Will you be undone by the 

one who will either kill us all or be our savior?" And I chuckled, revealing my true self to this man, if only for a second. "Of course not. He might appreciate a biography written about him though, after he passes from this world." The old man seemed terribly tired then, sighing and speaking in such a way that made my –heart?—clench in fear. "If 'Lavi' lives that long, perhaps. Or has 'Lavi' taken you over completely, Junior?"

By the time I found my voice, the short man was gone, his footsteps echoing so loudly in the dead of night. Had "Lavi" become me? I had nearly become "Rivalz" once, when this beautiful girl had cared for me so deeply that I found myself unsure of whether or not the path of the Bookmen was the right one for me. But, I had been foolish and young then, only on my twelfth alias and still prone to feeling human emotions at times.

Allen had a nightmare that same night. This was one of the worst. When I crept out of the kitchen, clutching my drug –iced tea of the sweetest kind—I found him wandering the many halls of the Black Order, eyes wide and zombie-like. He actually ran into me before he snapped out of his strange stillness, stumbling backward and being caught only by my hand –the one that didn't cradle the tea—which reached him right before he toppled over too far. He had this look on his face—how could I leave him to creep back to his own room?

So I brought him back to my room, empty since Bookman was currently traveling across India, researching some new type of newfound discovery. I directed the pajama-clad boy over to Bookman's unoccupied bed as I sat across from him on mine, eyes dark with worry as his gray orbs traveled over the room in a kind of seeing-but-not-really-_seeing_ sweep. I bid him to sleep after I had drank the last of my tea and provided him with humorous tales of my adventures, of my own experiences in Africa –luckily, I didn't have to try and catch a lion. By the time the empty glass was set on a nightstand, Allen seemed relaxed, curled up with silver bangs spread out across his face, eyelids drooping with fatigue. And no wonder. The clock read half-past midnight when I bid him goodnight and slipped underneath my own sheets.

I awoke at two to the unnatural feeling of excess heat. When I cracked my emerald eye open, it quickly widened in shock. Allen was pressed against me; head halfway on my naked chest, arms looped around my pajama-clad hips in some sloppy form of a hug. I practically yelped before finding myself on the floor, Allen leaning over me with a faint tinge of pink on his pale cheeks, though some drowsiness was still present in the way his body sagged. "I'm sorry, Lavi. I just had another nightmare and…" He trailed off, looking away from me and hunching his shoulders in a despondent way. "It's all right." I responded quietly before grinning falsely and adopting my "Lavi" accent. "Just warn me next time, eh, Beansprout?" He managed to get out a quick quip about him most certainly not being a beansprout before I shoved him back into the bed and followed quickly after, wrapping my arms around him in a way I hoped seemed brotherly.

At first, he tensed against my touch. How long had he not been hugged? It could not have been that long, for Lenalee cared for him nearly as much as I did. God, what was I thinking? I couldn't care for him; I had no heart. My thoughts abruptly came to a halt as he gripped my wrists, pulling me closer and 

making a sound that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. It seemed to take forever, but only a few minutes had passed before Allen swept back down into slumber, this time his nightmares locked away.

And I'll admit that I was not attacked by my comrades that night, asking me why I viewed them as ink on paper. I wasn't rebuked by Bookman, telling me there was no need for a heart. Not in our line of work, when those people around would only ever be ink on paper.

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Please Read and Review.

I will happily accept flames, so long as they are not so terribly typed that I will go blind from the simple horridness of the words.

**Desen: **We hope you enjoyed the first installment of _The Last Goodbye_.

Ja Ne


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